


dare to love

by its_yoursong



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Breast cancer, F/M, Homophobia, M/M, Mental Illness, depressing stuff, mention of bullying, sad sad sad but not bad, suicide !!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 16:07:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_yoursong/pseuds/its_yoursong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>love in its many different ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dare to love

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [bravery](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/20680) by Adèle. 



> hey guys ! so this is the english version of my french fic, with a few modifications. it will soon be posted on tumblr (bi-aaash.tumblr.com), too, and the next chapters will be up if you want them to :) i know it seems really depressing but i tried to not make it too sad. i hope you'll like it :) xx

Zayn arrived on the club's car park around 11pm – the perfect hour to begin the « hunt ». He cut the contact, lighted a cigarette, fixed his hair in the mirror, the collar of his white shirt, checked for the last time that his outfit let see just enough, but not too much. He only let a few tattoos visible – not all of them at once. A shit that defined his muscles without hugging them. You wouldn't be so excited to unwrap a present if you knew what was inside. Zayn smiled to his reflect and took a drag of his cig before leaving the car.

 

He walked to the club's entranced. He had arrived a few minutes ago only, but he was already getting inviting stares. He smirked and winked at one of the men oggling him. He stubbed the butt of his cig and smiled to the security guard. He showed him his ID. The other man nodded and let him go. He crossed the door and soon was drowned in the crowd of people who were drinking, flirting, singing, touching and swaying their hips to the pounding of the bass which was invading their senses. The air was almost unbreathable, the heat hardly bearable : everything he had ever loved. He bit his lip and made his way through to the bar, sometimes waving to acquaintances or old partners but never stopping. He finally got to the counter. He made his best to-make-a-priest-blush smile to the bartender and gave him his best seductive wink. He ordered a cocktail. A few minutes later, he was handed his drink in a glass trimmed with the club's logo and name, « Striped Bowties » plus a piece of paper on which was a scribbled number and those words « This one is on the house ;) ». Zayn smirked but didn't even glance up. He slipped the number in his back pocket. It may turn out to be useful, one of those days.

 

He emptied his glass and got up to go on the dancefloor. He quickly found himself surrounded by men. He scanned them all, one by one, and as soon as he found a detail he didn't like, as a too touchy hand for a beginning of the night, a bad placing of hair or shirt, he arranged himself to go sway somewhere else. After having initiated some make-out sessions, fondled some biceps, he set his sights on a short blond boy back facing him but who already attracted him. He seemed perfect for a one night stand. His height betrayed his young age. Fake blond hair, cute ass, large torso – totally Zayn's type. He approached, slowly, as if he was a predator in front of his prey, and decided to go for it. Young men often were easily impressionable and easy to get in his bed. He embraced the man's – teenager's ? - body from behind with his powerful arms and started grinding on him. Then he stroked his ribs and, reckless, kissed from the tip of his lips the stranger's neck. The reaction he was waiting for soon came and he smirked as the boy sighed : he knew he had won.  He dragged his hand under his « victim »'s t-shirt and while he was stroking the skin there, he bit his ear lobe, just for the fun. He whispered « Mine or yours ? », caressing the blond hair. He was really eager to take this young man home. Youg man that almost looked teenager to him, he really hoped he wasn't underage. Instead of answering, the stranger turned around with wide eyes.

 

Zayn discovered with astonishment Niall Horan, one of the 16 years old students he was teaching English to everyday at school.

 

*

 

Harry tossed and turned in his bed. He hadn't slept for more than two hours straight since Louis's burying. Endless litanies kept coming up in his mind. It had been six months but images of Louis' casket as it was being dragged down underground still haunted him. The sympathic and pityful stares of the other students after the incident still followed him down to his pillow. Louis' mom cries and sobs still reverberated to his ears – but maybe they were his. The hateful words of Matthew and his crew still hammered right into his broken heart.

He didn't understand. He didn't understand his school mates' hate nor did he understand Louis' death. His Louis, who loved life so much and kept on repeating « It will get better I swear, only a few months left, my angel ». Louis whose eyes sparkled every time Harry's name was brought up in the conversation, Louis who talked about their future together, right after the love, when their limbs were still tangled in the sheets and their breathing uneven. Louis who Harry thought was invincible.

Apprently, they were both wrong. Louis may have thought he was strong and indestructible too. Louis may have thought he was untouchable, and that nothing would ever get to him, get to them, and that he would always be there to protect Harry. Louis had overestimated himself, and that had been his biggest mistake. A mistake that cost him his life.

 

Harry was conscient of the fact that it wasn't Matthew who put Louis on a chair and threatened him until he hung himself. Matthew had never let anything else than bruises on Louis' skin, not strangulation marks. And maybe Harry would have prefered it if it was the case. Because then, he wouldn't have anything to blame on Louis. Plus, nobody takes suicided people seriously. Harry never stopped believing in Louis.

Harry blamed himself, for not seeing that Louis' morale was breaking at the same time as his bones. But this, the bruises, the broken noses, it wasn't Louis' fault nor was it Harry's. All Louis ever did was to love the man of his life, and he had fought to do just that in peace, but it wasn't enough. He lost all of his battles, all of their battles. He was thrown so much stones his shield collapsed, and Harry didn't see anything. He was blinded, blinded by his own anger, his own fears, his own love for Louis who he placed on a pedestal.

Louis killed himself after being the victim of an extremly violent bullying during all of his highschool years. He gave up three months before graduating, three months only. Harry knew Matthew didn't hang Louis up, but he knew for a fact that it was certainly Matthew who put Louis on the edge and pushed him over. And Harry was decided to take his revenge. He was thirsty. Thirsty of blood and violence, thirsty of fear and anger.

 

He sighed and violently yanked his blanket off the bed . He got up and held back frustrated tears. He wandered in the dark of his almost empty flat. He didn't need light anymore, he knew the way to his desk by heart now. He got around the ouch without stubbing his toe in the corner and arrived to his littered desk. It was flooded with books and journal articles, empty mugs and dust, photo albums and old letters. He didn't even glance once to the pandemonium decorating the furniture and directly went for the right drawer. His long and thin fingers slid on the wood a few seconds before they opened the drawer in a swift motion. The inside was almost empty, there only was a small velvet box containing a proposal ring he had bought for Louis before his death when he was sixteen. Even then, he knew that only death would separe them. He hadn't expected it to happen so early in their lives.  He didn't touch the box. In the drawer, there was also a frame, holding a picture of Louis and him right before they went back to school, after the summer. He slowly stroked his lover's face on the picutre with his fame and kissed tenderly the glass protecting the photo. He then replaced it in the drawer and finally took the enveloppe. He didn't open it right away, like every time, instead, he got up and walked to the alcohol closet. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and stirred the brown liquid, immediately thinking of Louis' hair. He was so pathetic. He downed his drink in one go and put the glass back on the coffee table.

And then, finally, he got the letter out and read those words he knew by heart.

 

_« Harry,_

 

_My angel. You make my life so easier – so beautiful. If I get up in the morning, it's only to have the pleasure and the honour to dive into your stunning green eyes. I know, it seems completely cliché and stupid but it's the truth and I can't find another way to express this. Plus, it's probably the last time I get to say how much I love you._

 

_I am so sorry. So sorry for everything that's gonna happen after this, after your read this letter. So sorry to be too weak. But how could I ? How could I stay alive and be unable to protect you ?_

 

_I want to protect you, my baby, and I'll be better at doing this up in the sky. Down there, I'm useless, you know that. I'm only good at watching them beat you up while I'm dreading the moment they'll attack me. You know as much as I do that the hardest are not the punches. The hardest, it's to get them because we dare to love._

 

_The hardest, it's tobe hated because we're happy  - different but happy. The hardest it's the words they repeat day after day, to be sure it gets to us, to be sure they run through us, slowly, painfully, like a poison._

 

_I saw it was getting to you, their poison. You will never admit it – maybe just to rassure me – but I know it. I am living the same thing, you know._

 

_I have never done anything to them and they still hate me. The problem is probably me, then, right ? Iwere here, you'd say « Of course not ! They are the problem. »but you're not here so I only have my head and my head is screaming yes, yes, it's me, the probleme, me and my liking for boys._

 

_Remember when we went to see the headmaster ? Remember the face he made when he understood ? How he looked at you, at us ? He just wrote something on his copybook and smiled to us, even though it looked like a grimace. Nothing changed after thet. He doesn't care. I can't wait to see his face when he'll learn the news ! I hope culpability and regrets haunt them until the end of his days. Let him die in hell !_

_Remember how we were happy ? It's this I want you to remember, the good moments. Throw the others in the bin !_

 

_I really hope they leave you alone after that. That's a bit of the whole point, to get them away from you. Maybe they will react, maybe they will change. I kinda doubt it, but who knows. Maybe they still have a heart. I know it's really selfish from me to go away like this and leave you alone in this big world. Believe me, it's for the best. I knows there are only a few months left to graduation but I can't stand it anymore. I won't. I'm sorry, Harry, I'm so sorry. I'm not brave enough._

 

_I want it to be useful. I want you to spread the news, to share our story, okay ? Make people react._

_I want to rest in peace, knowing you are saving other people from what I couldn't fight. I trust you._

 

_I wanted to marry you, Harry. I wanted us to buy a huge house and I wanted us to adopt kids. I just want you to not blame yourself. You're the most perfect thing that ever happened to me. You were as important to me as I was to you. I swear._

 

_Anyways, I'm going to hell, too, or so I've heard. Well, at least I guess I won't be too cold._

 

_Love always,_

 

_Louis. »_

 

**You can rest in peace, my love, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at them. They will pay.**


End file.
